Cash’s call-slash-interview-slash–chemistry test with Lyric had earned him her phone number. Almost three weeks of nonstop texting later, they were now en route to the first date.
“I’m not nervous,” she denied, perhaps a touch too vehemently to be believed. “I just... want to make a good impression. Is that so bad?”
“Let me get this straight.You,” he pointed at Poppy, “are worried about making a good impression duringmy,”he pointed at himself, “date.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds silly,” she groused.
Cash let out a curt snicker that had her wishing they were kids again so she could reach out and tweak his nipple through his ridiculously garish silk Gucci shirt. “Because itissilly. You’re hopeless, Pop-Tart.”
She sputtered out an indignant laugh and swiveled in her seat to face him. “Me? Hopeless?Have you met me? I am a fucking ray of sunshine. I am the opposite of hopeless. I am—I amfullof hope.”
He grinned, teeth glinting in the dim light of the back seat. “Full of something.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Do not test me. I will turn this car around.”
From the front, the driver snorted, quickly covering the sound with a cough. Poppy’s face warmed.
“I will have the driver turn this car around,” she amended.
“No, you won’t. Because you want to make a good impression onRosaline Sinclair,” Cash teased, voice annoyingly singsongy.
“Cash,” she warned, far from in the mood to be teased.
“Relax. It’ll be great. Lyric and I’ll...” He trailed off with a vague sweep of his hand that had her wrinkling her nose.
She hadn’t asked about their plans and quite frankly the less she knew the better. “And you’ll, what? Make small talk for a few hours?” He stretched out his big, dumb hands and gave her even dumber spirit fingers. “Oooh, so scary.”
She smacked his chest. “Shut up.”
“I wouldn’t bet against me if I were you,” he said. “My gut’s telling me tonight’s going to be a total success.”
Of course it was.Hewas going to get to spend the evening charming a pretty girl. Poppy, on the other hand, was going to spend the evening—actually, she didn’tknowhow she was going to spend the evening. She and Rosaline hadn’t discussed thespecifics, only the logistics. Location (Rosaline’s house as it was private and secure), time (here Rosaline had offered a little grace given the chance of the game going into overtime and the knowledge that LA traffic was notoriously a bitch), and a warning not to breathe a word to a single soul. A touch overkill considering the brand spankin’ new NDA Poppy and Cash had signed, but Poppy wasn’t about to begrudge Rosaline her precautions if they provided her and Lyric with peace of mind.
The car briefly idled in front of a wrought iron gate that looked as elaborate as it did secure before passing through, stopping in front of a two-story Spanish colonial with a windowless half-round carriage-house-style front door surrounded by a half arch of bright pink bougainvillea.
Cash whistled as he opened his car door. “Nice place.”
The butterflies in her stomach transformed into bees and her pulse pounded painfully in her throat. Go time. “Before we head in—”
“It’s a date.Mydate, not a press conference or some public appearance. I don’t need a briefing and I definitely don’t need my hand held.” Cash stepped out of the car, turned, and ducked, green eyes full of mirth. “I love you, I do, but I’ve got this.”
“I’m sure youthinkyou’ve got this, but—”
The door shut in her face.
Poppy scrambled out after him, moving slower, her pleated A-line skirt bunching awkwardly around her hips as she slid across the leather, tossing a quick thanks at the driver before shutting the door and hurrying after Cash, hoping to corral him before—
Too late. The door swung upon and suddenly Cash had his arms full of pop star.
All perfect, light brown skin and warm brown eyes, springy coils of hair held back from her face with a tangerine knottedheadband, Lyric Adair was even prettier in person. The gold bangles on her dainty wrist clanged noisily as she threw her arms around Cash and buried her face in his neck, her laughter bright and airy as Cash crushed her against his chest with a deep, booming laugh and swung her in a wide circle.
It felt a little like Poppy was watching a rom-com play out before her eyes. She wasn’t sure she believed in anything as fickle as fate or soulmates, but maybe, just maybe, Cash had been on to something when he’d talked about that feeling of surety, that he and Lyric were meant to meet. That maybe this timewasdifferent.
“Hi,” Lyric breathed when her feet were finally back on the ground, her face tipped up, staring at Cash, still clinging close, her hands holding tight to his biceps.
Cash sounded equally as breathless as he stared down at her, cheeks pink and throat working hard with each swallow. No nerves, her ass. “Hi. I, uh, got these for you.” He thrust a bouquet of slightly smushed four-leaf clovers he had special ordered from a fancy florist shop they’d had to detour to after the game.
“Are these—oh my god, you got me a bouquet of four-leaf clovers? I didn’t even know they sold those,” Lyric gushed, eyes full of hearts.
